London's Burning
by Jay K. Elle
Summary: It's September 2 1666, and Dee's found Nicholas Flamel hiding in plain sight...London. But, he's also found two teenagers: The Twins of Legend. Occurs before the series, and is a little insight to the lives of Flamel and Dee before Sophie a Josh met them
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! I absolutely love the world(s)/shadowrealm(s) that NF takes place in! So, I'd thought I'd write a little fanfic for it. :) No promises on updates, I'm pretty sporadic when it comes to that, but if I get enough comments, I might continue. **

**Sigh. I dont' own any of this... sadly. Michael Scott does. :) (And he's my absolute favourite author of all time!) But anyways, I hope you guys enjoy! It takes place before Sophie and Josh, so let's see what's going on with the good ol' Flamels...**

* * *

><p>September 2, 1666<p>

The burly baker was surprised to find his shop on fire.

He dropped the bag of flour he had just collected from the back store room and grabbed a nearby bucket by its handle. He dumped it into a barrel of water and tried fruitlessly to douse the flames that danced out of the oven and canopied the surrounding tables. Flour and sugar crackled in the heat, showering the air with mini explosions.

Crimson and gold flames licked up the wooden walls of the bakery. The black smoke-filled air was tainted with the regular smells of burning wood, cinnamon, and garlic, but the sweet scent of mint and the sour odor of sulfur were definitely out of place.

The fire grew to impossible heights in a short amount of time. The baker dropped the useless bucket and threw his arm over his nose and mouth, coughing as he tried to purge the polluted oxygen out of his system. He'd suffocate if he stayed any longer. Sacrificing the last clean air in his lungs, he shouted up the spiral staircase that led upstairs, but his voice was lost in the roar of the burning inferno. He coughed and sputtered, then with a heavy decision, he left the back rooms and ducked under the counter, leaving everyone behind in the flat above. Pausing, he urgently told his only two customers that they needed to get out of the store, that the back room was on fire, but when they made to move to flee the building, he shook his head and wove past them.

He barreled the front door down, and wisps of black smoke curled out onto the streets. The baker turned around, his eyes wandering up the two story building. Only a few minutes had passed and the deadly fire was already raking up the to the second floor, where flames were seen writhing behind the glass-paneled windows.

A maid came running out the door shortly after him. Her hair was a dark brown, pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck. Her long dress was singed and soot was painted across her face. Tears slid down the woman's cheeks and she suppressed a sob. The baker moved forward, grabbed her arm and pulled her out of harm's way as part of the wall fell away before them. Splinters flew in every direction, and the baker once again put his arm over his face protectively.

The two men inside had barely even noticed the wildfire taking place around them. Pale blue eyes watered from the smoke, but they stared intently at the latter's. Dr. John Dee smiled, a cruel, vicious sneer, then his hand shot out to the counter beside him. The stench of burnt eggs intensified, and tendrils of the man's pale yellow aura leaked from his fingers onto the pots and pans littering the table top.

The English Magician's aura enveloped around the shaped metal, hardening into a protective case. Copper and iron glowed white-hot, and Dee closed his fist around the yellow tendrils, where they solidified in his palm. He tugged suddenly, and the array of cooking supplies were sling-shotted in Nicholas Flamel's direction.

The famous Alchemyst ducked as two copper bowls flew over his head, then as a set of matching measuring cups soared to his left. The man's pale eyes followed the objects as they shifted shape in midair, their rims curling in on themselves and morphing them to deadly hot blobs. With a somewhat liquified clang, they splattered against the wall behind him, disappearing into the fire.

"I see you still remember what I've taught you." Nicholas mused, straightening and turning to the immortal.

A small smile passed over the Doctor's thin lips. "Of course I do." He said, just loud enough for his opponent to hear. He took a few steps forward, pushing a chair out of his way. "I've also picked up a few extra things." The man continued. He lifted his hand straight out in front of him. A yellow-white orb popped into existence just above his hand, growing as he fed his energy into it.

Nicholas Flamel eyed it cautiously, and the glowing orb reflected in his eyes, robbing them of the little blueness that was in them. Realization hit him, and not a second too soon, his hand came up to protect his eyes as the bakery was momentarily flushed with a blindingly white light.

The Magician took the advantage and leaped forward. He thought of a simple sword; A thin rapier that had peaked in popularity over 50 years previously. The sword materialized in his hand, the hilt a comfortable leather grip and the blade sharpened to a deathly point. He swung it testily, swinging it out in an arc in front of him.

Just as Flamel blinked the black spot out of his eyes, Dee's shoulder make contact with his chest. The Alchemyst was knocked backward, where he stumbled over his feet and toppled to the ground. A cold blade pressed against his throat.

"I want the Book, Flamel." Dee growled.

Nicholas's breath caught in his lungs. He coughed, then spat, "Never."

Flamel's hand shot out, and a beam cracked and fell over, carrying hundreds of pounds of wood covered in fire. The Alchemyst rolled over, and Dee lunged in the opposite direction as the beam brought sparks and ashes flying everywhere.

Flamel nimbly sprang to his feet. He darted towards the front door, which swung blithely on its hinges. Pushing it open, he was exposed to the chaos occurring outside. Citizens rushed back and forth, carrying water buckets and blankets as they tried to suppress the fire that was leaping from building to building. The burning conflagration had spread to almost half the street, and most houses, flats, and stores where now being evacuated.

Behind him, he heard a shriek of vexation. Glass cracked, then shattered completely. Shards rained down on the immortal, and he cringed away from the glass pieces.

It wasn't hard to blend in with the crowd on Pudding Lane. People were covered with soot, grime, and sweat as they pushed past their compatriots. Nicholas jogged forward, gently nudging some of the people out of his way. He risked a glance back at the burning bakery, which was now reduced to almost a skeleton.

Dee coughed and sputtered, stumbling out the front door to the street. The sudden clear air seared his lungs, and the Doctor found himself leaning over, his hands on his knees, gasping.

He studied his shadow for a moment, long and lithe from the setting sun. When his breathing was under control, he calmly straightened to his full height. He wasn't worried about Nicholas Flamel, he'd see him again. Like all of the humani race, he was just as predictable. He was going to his wife.

He was running to Perenelle Flamel.

* * *

><p><strong>So how was that for a start? I hoped you like! Remember, leave your comments, they make my day! -Love from Jay<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**I'd like to thank you guys who gave this little story a click! An for the lovely comments ya'll left me! :) Here's the next part, I hope it doesn't disappoint. :)**

The Sorceress didn't need her awakened senses to hear what was happening a street away. The screams and shouts from the roads were enough to grab anyone's attention, and the woman found herself running across the length of the parlor to the streaked window to see the commotion. Perenelle's floor length light blue dress billowed out around her, highlighting the skinny, pale gray stripes in her otherwise jet black hair. She pushed the lace curtain aside, and grass green eyes narrowed momentarily before widening in shock.

Outside, fire leapt into the air, hundreds of feet high. The colors complimented the now purple and pink sky, and on other circumstances the Sorceress might have viewed the array of colors entrancing. But here the fire was deadly, and it only brought devastation. It illuminated every minute detail of the objects in its path before completely devouring them, making them vanish from sight. Perenelle pressed her hand against the warped glass panel just as a servant hurried into the parlour. The elder woman turned to the maid, who curtseyed, then wordlessly stepped aside as a battered and shabby Nicholas moved into view.

"Nicholas." She murmured, running forward and pulling her husband into a tight hug. "What happened?"

The Alchemyst murmured something inarticulate, then looked back over his shoulder at the maid, who was standing obediently for orders. Perenelle's eyes also followed his gaze, and she quickly gestured for her to leave them alone. The maid turned on her heels, and it was only when the young woman's footsteps completely receded did Perenelle turn back to Nicholas. Her hands flitted to rest on his soot covered cheeks. "Nicholas, what happened?" She repeated, her voice betraying a french accent.

"Dee's here. He found us." He said quickly.

"He didn't-?"

"No." Flamel pressed a palm against his chest, where a small bag was strung on a cord around his neck and hidden under his top. Perenelle's eyes followed his hand, and she covered his with one of her own. "But he was close." The Alchemyst added in French. "We need to go."

Perenelle's eyes flashed with understanding. Her hands dropped to her sides, and in the next minute she was darting around the parlour, grabbing books and other items off the shelves.

For a moment the Alchemyst watched his wife move back and forth across the room, then he took a deep breath and disappeared to the staircase, climbing two steps at a time to the second floor. He found his and his wife's room and dropped down to a kneeling position to the hope chest at the foot of the canopied bed.

The usual quiet house was filled with sounds as he heard Perenelle downstairs, shuffling around and stuffing objects into knapsacks. Nicholas's hand hovered over the chest, strings of the his mint green aura dripping onto the woodwork and into the keyhole. There was a click, and he quickly threw the lid back and began to dig through the trunk's contents. He tossed some clothes to the side, then dug further into the chest, his forearms vanishing from view. His hands wrapped around a tightly cloth bound package at the bottom and he gingerly lifted it out and set it on the floor next to him.

One by one he pulled bound objects out of the chest, and one by one his fingers danced over the cloth, checking and double checking the ties. Nicholas grabbed the heap of clothes, then gathered the objects in his arms and darted back down the stairs, not even bothering to close the trunk's lid or clean up the mess he just made.

There was a loud 'crash' from the kitchen, quickly followed by a scream. Nicholas jumped the last few steps and ran into the parlour, where he dropped the parcels on a chair. Perenelle had froze, and her green eyes momentarily looked over him before turning in the direction of the kitchen. Her mouth was thin line, and her expression was enough for Nicholas know what she was thinking. The Alchemyst clenched his fists in anticipation, and strings of his mint green aura wound around his fingers and knuckles. He stepped towards the doorway that led to the kitchen, his leather shoes plodding almost inaudibly on the wooden floors.

"You know, Flamel, If you would've just handed the book over, I wouldn't have had to set fire to half of London."

The door opened, and Dee walked through, hands in pockets and a casual expression on his face. Flamel's eyes darted to the figure crumpled next to the kitchen table behind him. Dee followed his gaze momentarily before shrugging and turning back to Nicholas. "She won't remember a thing."

"You're out of control, Dee." Nicholas snapped. His voice was a low and threatening murmur, laced with a Parisian accent. "You need to restrain yourself."

"Maybe." Dee replied calmly, smirking almost. "But I don't know if I can. You always did said that was a flaw of mine… My lack of self-control."

"Al heroes' downfalls are caused by their tragic flaws." Nicholas responded, just as calm. "Your flaw will cause yours."

Dr. John Dee spread his hands out in front of him. "I'm flattered; You think I'm a hero." He flashed a grin as he caught the minute detail of Flamel's spiel. The English Magician suddenly looked like the devil's shadow as he stood there, his arms outstretched and a coy smile playing at his lips. His grayish skin seemed to harmonize with his dark hair, and his almost coal black eyes added to the sinister image. He clothes -which were once shades of white, grey, and brown- were now covered in soot and ash, turning them much darker. "Of course I am trying to be the hero here, Nicholas. We have the same goals, it's just that I have different means of achieving them."

"We do not want the same things." The Alchemyst murmured. His forefinger brushed against his thumb, then he brought his hand out in front of him and blew against his palm. The Magician was momentarily stunned as waves of green energy plowed against him. He stumbled backwards, crashing into a desk and falling to the floor in a pile of splinters.

Nicholas took the advantage and returned to his wife's side, who had miraculously finished packing the essentials while he and Dee had this little exchange. The bound parcels he had retrieved where stuffed into oversize satchel and was sitting on the floor next to four other bags. He grabbed it and slung it over his shoulder, then picked up the others.

A door led to a closet under the stairs, and Perenelle had crossed the room in a few strides and wretched it open. The little room was completely vacant, except for a long mirror that occupied one wall. She risked a glance back at the fallen immortal, then moved into the closet and placed her hand against the cool glass. The mirror flashed, and spiderwebs over her white aura crisscrossed over the reflective surface.

"Nicholas!" She shouted. Turning back to her husband, she gestured for him to hurry up. He tossed her a couple of the bags, and sharing a silent nod, she jumped into the glass.

Nicholas watched the edges of Perenelle's long dress disappear from view. He turned to Dee, who was now staggering back to his feet.

"Flamel, you might want to stick around to hear what I have to say." He said coolly. He straightened, brushed off his shirt, then rolled his shoulders, flexing his back muscles. When interest momentarily passed over Flamel's countenance of annoyance and distaste, Dee took it as a sign to keep going.

"I found another set of twins." He said.

A slow smirk materialized on the Magician's face as Flamel's pale blue eyes hardened into a scrutinizing gaze. He looked over the contours of the man's face, searching for any remnants of lies.

"You think I wouldn't have noticed all the twins you've gathered over the years?" His voice changed, mocking. "Nicholas, I was your apprentice long enough to notice the pattern. And the Book… The Codex... Filled with Prophecies about the Twins of Legend… I need it, Flamel." He took a step closer to Nicholas and held out his hand expectantly.

Nicholas took a step back, a step closer to the closet and the leygate mirror.

"A girl and a boy… blonde hair, blue eyes… Well, mostly blue…" He shrugged casually. "But if your not interested, just go. Flee, as you always do, Nicholas. I'll find you again anyway."

The Alchemyst gritted his teeth and yet another smile passed over the Magician's lips. Dee's dark eyes drifted down to the table against the wall next to him. He picked up a frame, examining the painting inside enthusiastically. "It would be so much easier if you'd just hand over the Book."

"You'll never get it." The Alchemyst growled. He stepped backwards some more, then turned around and leapt towards the mirror.

"If that's how you'll be…" Dee sighed. His fingers danced over the multitude of candles next to the picture frames. The wicks glowed red-hot, and flames suddenly erupted to life, flickering at first then growing in height. They leapt to the wallpaper and the patterned cloth sitting over the table. The last thing Nicholas Flamel heard was Dr. John Dee's low chuckle before he was pulled through the leygate and sent into oblivion.


	3. Chapter 3

To Dee, the mission didn't seem a complete failure.

So he hadn't gotten his hands on the Codex. So he failed at retrieving the disreputable copper bound book that both he and the Dark Elders craved to hold. **But,** he did plant a small grain, a minuscule grain, of curiosity into the Alchemyst's mind, and Dee knew that it wouldn't be long until they crossed paths again. He knew that the Alchemyst would want to confirm Dee's statement about the Twins, and to do that, he would have to come back to London.

That's why he decided not to jump into the Leygate after them. He had business here, and had plans of taking care of them.

The Alchemyst's home was now up in flame, and the leygate mirror was melting, warping from the intense heat. Dee felt some sorrow towards destroying the ancient traveling mechanism, but he found it unavoidably necessary; It narrowed down one way the Alchemyst could return, and it bought him some time.

Now, it was time to focus on the twins.

Alex and Lucy Ringer. Two fifteen year olds. The boy, the elder, a protective figure for his 20 second minor. Dee had spent months living in an apartment underneath theirs. He had waited for them, followed them, learnt about them.

Lucy looked up to her twin, not only as an older brother, but as a protector and as a guide. Dee hoped that in Awakening the twins, it would cure Lucy's blindness.

That was the only little flaw; Lucy was blind. He's never dealt with a handicap before, but he wasn't going to let that minute detail crush his hopes. It's been years since he last saw a pair of twins, and not only that, but blonde haired, blue eyed twins.

It was his lucky day when he had stumbled upon them at the bookshop.

It had all started out as a small conversation: Dee bringing up his fondness for the unknown, for the fiction and fantasy found only in books. Lucy was the first to settle into a calm, friendly manner around him, and it only took a little while before Alex did the same. They spent afternoon after afternoon reading on the front porch of the private apartment complex, but in the end it paid off. Carefully and delicately he was able to get them to tell him about themselves, and he learnt that their father had died a few years previously and that their mother was always working at her job in a tailor's shop.

It was the perfect opportunity to not only get them to like him, but to _trust_ him. He took up the role of a father figure -which he played perfectly- and the act even had the twins' mother coming to him to thank him for spending so much time with them.

Dee smiled to himself as he reminisced in his successful progress the past few months. He spun around mid-stride, his steely grey eyes quickly scanning over the burning landscape that had once been Thames Street.

The fire would keep everyone busy, he thought, and barely anyone would pay attention to any little disturbances he might cause in the near future.

Now to find the twins.

The apartment complex was on Tower Street, just a few blocks from where he was. The complex was too small to even be called a complex, because it was more of the size of an inn with three floors and a thatched roof. However, he knew that it being a Saturday evening, he would find the twins somewhere in that area.

So he set off at a brisk pace, his hands casually in his pockets as he strode down Thames Street.

* * *

><p>Alex Ringer's voice slowed to a stop, the last few words from the book becoming elongated and warped as he swiftly closed the novel and stood up. His sister, Lucy, straightened from her place propped against the bed's pillows, her forehead creasing in worry when his presence moved away from her.<p>

"Alex, what is it?" She asked.

He stepped towards the window without a word, his ear straining to hear what he just heard a moment ago. He pushed a cotton curtain to the side of the window, his blue eyes momentarily gazing back at him before focusing on the city of London laid out in front of the inn. His reflection's mouth dropped open, and it only took a minute for him to regain his composure and turn back to his twin.

"I think we should just go outside, that's all." He replied.

The worried creases on his sister's face disappeared after a few moments as she tried to register any problem in her brother's voice. She nodded, then shifted on the bed, swinging her legs onto the ground. Alex crossed the room in a few strides and took her hand in his, helping her up and guiding her out of the bedroom.

"Why do you want to go outside?" She asked.

The twins walked down the lengthy hallway, and Alex knocked on the oak door at the very end, carefully thinking over his response.

"Oh, just to take a walk." He said, his voice showing nothing but calmness despite the fact he was freaking out inside. The last thing he need was his sister to worry; She had the tendency to over react.

The door was pulled open, and the landlady, Abigail, stood in front of them with a hand on her hip and a cloth clenched in her fist.

"Oh, hello Alex." She said, smiling gently as the ire slipped from her facial expressions. She stood up straighter. "Do you need something?"

Alex returned the smile before glancing quickly at his sister. "We're just going outside for a walk. I think maybe you should come with us."

Abigail's eyebrows knitted together. "I can't." She said slowly. "I have too much work to do."

"Yes, but I still-"

"I'm sorry, Alex." She stated curtly, "But I can't."

The door swiftly shut, and Alex found he couldn't do anything more. He bit his lip nervously and guided Lucy back down the hallway.

"What about Mr. Dee?" Lucy asked. "Why don't we ask him?"

Alex nodded silently, leading Lucy down the stairs to the level below them. When they came to Dee's rooms, he found that the door was already partly open.

"Mr. Dee?" He called out, pushing the door the remainder of the way open. "Are you here?"

"The door was open?" Lucy asked curiously.

"Yeah… but he probably didn't close it all the way. Ours does that too."

Alex led his sister to the sofa, and she sat down while he walked around the rooms. He found the man's bedroom, his gaze slipping over the lazily strewn comforter and partially opened wardrobe and trunk. He picked up a couple of books on the ground and tossed them onto the nightstand.

"Mr. Dee?" He called again, just incase the man was for some reason hiding under the bed or in the wardrobe. For all he could see though, the rooms seemed to be abandoned.

He walked past the windows, his eyes catching sight of the conflagration still rapidly spreading. He would wait for him, Alex concluded. He would stay here and wait for Mr. Dee to return.

Pulling his gaze away from the disaster outside, his eyes rested on the wardrobe, where he found his natural curiosity to look inside taking over. He gingerly pulled the wardrobe's door open, bracing himself incase anything that was hastily stuffed inside was ready to topple over. With the looks of Mr. Dee's bedroom, he just couldn't be sure.

Clothes and books and scrolls. That was pretty much all that was in the armoire. He pushed some hangers aside, and shoved in the back, leaning against the far wall, was a tweed coat thrown over a long, cross shaped object. Alex reached over the stack of books and lifted the coat, carefully pulling it out. The object bumped into the pile, and the books swayed precariously back and forth before completely toppling over with a loud crash.

"Alex?" Lucy's clear voice rang out in the following silence.

"No way." He whispered, a boy's interest suddenly taking over. Alex picked up the long, stone sword laying over the fallen books and swung it testily in front of him. It fit perfectly in both his hands, the cool stone against his warm flesh, the weight impossibly perfect.

"Alex?" Lucy asked again.

"I'm fine." He called back. He glanced down at the mess of books on the floor, then back at the sword. "You'll never guess what I found."

"Don't snoop through Mr. Dee's belongings." Lucy chastised. Alex heard the creaking of the floor boards, and a few minutes later Lucy was standing in the doorway, her hands on either side of the frame.

"I'm not snooping." Alex replied curtly.

His sister sighed. "What is it you found?"

Alex flashed a smile, and swung the sword again. "Why do you think Mr. Dee has a sword in his wardrobe?"

"What?" Lucy asked.

"A sword. And it's perfectly balanced, and light, and comfortable…"

"Put it back." Lucy said. "Mr. Dee could be home any minute."

Alex looked once more at the pile of books on the floor. "Umm… okay."

Lucy rolled her eyes and stepped forward, her hands held out in front of her as she stepped closer and closer to her brother. Alex placed the sword on the bed, then dropped to his knees as he began re-stacking the books.

"What'd you knock over?" Lucy said, when she heard the shuffling of her brother.

"Just some books. Nothing much."

His sister stopped a few feet away from him and crossed her arms. Alex couldn't help but notice how much she resembled their mother when she did that. Lucy sighed, her breath coming out harshly.

"Alex." She said exasperatedly.

"I'm cleaning it up!" He defended quickly, pushing the books roughly into the armoire and straightening. "See? Good as new."

"What are you doing?" A rough voice asked from the doorway.

Alex shut the wardrobe door with a loud click and turned to the source of the voice. Lucy looked up too, and with a start, Alex realized he left the sword on the bed.

"We were just looking for you." Lucy said cooly. "We wanted to go out for a walk."

"Oh?" Dee asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe. "Then what are you doing in here?"

"We were waiting for you." Alex said quickly. "And Lucy had to go to the bathroom, but she came in here by accident. I was just about to show her in the right direction."

Lucy's head spun in his direction in a heartbeat, a glare growing on her face.

"You're a bad liar, Alex." Dee said, looking between the two. He straightened and stepped forward, making his way towards the bed. "You were searching through my things." He picked up the sword and tossed it between his hands.

Lucy snickered, a small smile playing on her lips as she stared absently at the floor.

"Yes, but that's just because… well…"

Dee smiled, his eyes glancing up and down the sword's blade. "It's okay, Alex. We all get curious every once and awhile." he looked at the teenage boy.

Alex nodded awkwardly, averting his eyes.

"There's a real story to this." Dee said quietly. He placed the sword on the bed again. "But not today. Right now, we need to leave London."

Alex's gaze snapped back to Dee. "I'm sorry?" He said.

"The fire. It destroyed your mother's shop. It won't be long until it spreads here too."

"Fire? What fire?" Lucy pitched in, her voice strained. "And what about our mother?"

"I'm sorry." Dee said. "She's dead."

"Alex?" Lucy's voice was nothing more than a whisper. Alex reached out and squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"No." He said through gritted teeth. "No. How would you know? I'm sure she's fine."

"London isn't safe." Dee stressed. "Your mother is dead. I'm sorry, but we _really_ need to go."

"W-Where?" Lucy asked, side-stepping as Dee roughly pushed between the twins.

"Just out of the city." The man replied, pulling open the wardrobe and skimming over the clothing and objects inside. "I'll explain more once we're in the countryside. Pack light."

"Explain what?" Alex asked, his voice rising slightly with hysteria he was trying to push aside. His mother couldn't be dead. They couldn't be leaving London, they just couldn't…

Dee straightened, a hand passing over his suddenly tired face. "Not now, Alex. Can you please just listen to me? Trust me- Just this once. I'll explain everything later."

Alex nodded solemnly. "Stay here Lucy. I'll be right back."

Lucy nodded, her petite face creasing in worry. She squeezed his wrist gently, and he glanced once more at the packing Dee before hastily leaving the bedroom to his own flat.


End file.
